


sweet like cinnamon

by softeldritch



Series: prompt fills [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Bondage, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Winnipeg Jets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 03:43:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18357917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softeldritch/pseuds/softeldritch
Summary: 23. “Of course I trust you.”





	sweet like cinnamon

**Author's Note:**

> this was [prompted](http://soft-eldritch.tumblr.com/post/183965537168/23-for-adambrandon) by the wonderful paige (deadpai) on tumblr <3
> 
> (title taken from _radio_ by _lana del rey_ )

“So, uh,” Adam starts, as Brandon loosens his own tie and tugs it off obscenely like he’s starring in a porno, “where’d you even learn to do stuff like this?”

‘Stuff like this’ being the fact that Brandon’s roped Adam’s wrists to the headboard with a pretty complicated knot, and now he’s straddling Adam’s crotch and smirking down at him with all the smug confidence in the world. It’s not, like, the _first_ time they’ve done something like this, but it’s the first time Brandon’s busted out actual rope and introduced the idea of safewords. Adam totally thought that was just some Fifty Shades of Grey bullshit, but no, apparently it’s an important _thing_.

Brandon grins, and drags his nails up Adam’s bare sides. It’s because he’s already so keyed up—by the fact that he’s stark ass naked while Brandon’s still mostly fully dressed, by Brandon’s ass rubbing on his dick, and yeah, by the pretty damn vulnerable position he’s in—that Adam groans, skin blazing wherever Brandon touches him.

“I had a girlfriend who wanted to try it,” he says, still clutching his tie in one hand as he smiles that beautiful smile at Adam and grinds back on his dick. Adam chokes on a moan and goes to grab Brandon’s hips, until the rope stops him from lifting his hands more than a few inches above his head. “Turns out she wasn’t into it, but I was, so that didn’t really work out.”

It’s probably bad form to say he’s glad it didn’t work, but otherwise Brandon might not be here on top of him teaching him all sorts of new things about himself. Plus, the idea of Brandon doing this with someone else leaves a sour taste in Adam’s mouth.

Brandon’s smile grows even brighter. He braces his hands on Adam’s chest and leans forward until he can kiss him, soft and chaste even when Adam tries pushing up and pressing for more. “Aw, baby,” Brandon croons, eyes crinkling with a smile, “you don’t need to be jealous.”

“I’m definitely not,” Adam says, even though Brandon can read him like a book at this point.

Ever-indulgent, Brandon leans down again to kiss him properly. Adam is _so_ not gonna complain, even if it feels a little bit like he’s being patronized. Brandon kisses like he plays—hard and wild and a little bit desperate. It’s easy to get lost in it, to open his mouth and suck on Brandon’s tongue and groan against his lips when Brandon rocks his hips back again.

“I’m maybe a _little_ jealous,” he admits, when Brandon breaks off to grin at him again. It’s not his fault. Those big brown eyes just make him want to spill all of his secrets.

Still balancing with a hand on Adam’s chest, Brandon reaches up to briefly tangle his fingers with Adam’s. It’s messy, because Adam can’t see what they’re doing and he can’t really move his hands, but Brandon squeezes tight and Adam’s heart skips a beat like he’s the lead in a stupid romcom.

“I’m with you,” Brandon says, kind of teasing, kind of serious. “I’m sticking with you.”

It’s not like Adam has any deep-rooted abandonment issues, but hearing that settles the ugly rear of anxiety in his chest. “I know that,” he says, as Brandon squeezes his fingers one last time and pulls away. “I mean, who could even follow up? I’m obviously the best you’re ever gonna get, so . . .”

Brandon giggles, shaking his head. “I guess you are,” he laughs. Then he meets Adam’s eyes, and _okay_ , that’s the kind of intensity that makes Adam nervous and excited all at once. “I love you.”

Adam swallows. “I love you.” He doesn’t say _too_ because that makes it feel like an afterthought, and there’s nothing secondhand about the way he loves Brandon.

Brandon usually teases him about that particular quirk, but now he just smiles all soft and sits back, looking Adam over with warm brown eyes. He’s still holding onto his tie, winding it around his hand just to slip it off again and start over. Adam _knows_ that look. Brandon has an _idea_ , and Adam hasn’t really encountered an idea of Brandon’s that he’s disagreed with yet.

He doesn’t get a chance to ask, though, before Brandon’s leaning down and kissing him again.

Adam gets caught up in it, his brain going all fuzzy as he lets Brandon take control. That’s something kinda new, but _good_ new. Brandon has this way of kissing Adam and looking at him and touching him like he’s—not _small_ , not exactly, but somewhere in that vicinity. It’s strange, and it knocks him a bit off-balance, because Adam’s a big guy and Brandon’s really _not_ , but. It’s comfortable, being able to curl into the shape Brandon makes him sometimes. It’s nice when he doesn’t have to worry about much else.

“Can we try something?” Brandon asks against his mouth.

“Dude,” Adam says, straining not to buck his hips too much. “You know the answer to that already.”

Brandon pulls up, kisses Adam’s forehead, and drapes the tie over his eyes. Adam’s breath hitches.

“Do you trust me?”

Adam feels a bit like he’s about to take a faceoff in, like, Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. His heart’s hammering in his chest, his breath coming a bit too quick. “Of course I trust you.” He’ll always trust Brandon, on or off the ice. Brandon’s never let him fall too hard before.

He feels Brandon’s fingers scratching along his scalp, sending shivers down his spine, before the tie draws tight around his head. It’s not a proper blindfold—not like the ones from the Skip video—but Adam closes his eyes to help it along. “There you go,” Brandon says, and his fingertips trace the edge of the tie where it sits on Adam’s cheeks. It’s . . . really intimate, and Adam has to slow down and remind himself to _breathe_.

The kiss Brandon presses to his mouth is a surprise. It’s sweet, but with the edge Brandon brings into everything he does. All Adam can do is hang on and kiss back, toes curling in the sheets as Brandon starts that slow, heavy grind back onto his dick.

He gasps for air when Brandon kisses over his jaw and down his throat, fingers twisting and curling together. Every kiss is feather-light, sending tiny shivers over Adam’s skin, and with his vision gone he feels so much more _sensitive_ . He rocks his hips up, hoping for something _more_ —and Brandon, awful tease that he is, lifts his ass away from Adam’s dick and presses a gentle kiss to his chin.

“ _Brandon_ ,” he groans.

The kiss turns to a bite. “Trust me?” Brandon says again, a smile evident in his voice. And maybe a bit of a laugh, too.

“Fuck you.”

Brandon does laugh at that, so deep that Adam can almost feel it resonating in his chest. Metaphorically more than anything, but _fuck_. “Not tonight,” Brandon murmurs, nibbling along Adam’s collarbone.

Adam rolls his hips and tries not to whine when his dick meets nothing but air. “Fuck _me_?” he tries, tugging on the ropes binding him to the headboard.

Another laugh. “Patience, baby.”

Brandon takes his sweet ass time kissing a trail down Adam’s skin. He bites a mark above his left nipple and scores stinging lines with his fingernails up and down Adam’s sides and lingers so long laving attention on Adam’s abs that Adam’s almost out of his mind with want by the time the pressure of Brandon sitting on his thighs suddenly disappears. Some broken noise lurches up from his throat and he grasps at air, trembling all over from arousal and anticipation as he waits for whatever Brandon will do next.

Then, for a few seconds, nothing happens. He feels the bed shift, and he hears Brandon’s clothes as he settles between Adam’s legs, but there’s no rough hands or sharp teeth or soft lips against his skin.

“. . . Brandon?” he tosses into the quiet, his voice small and shaky. He _feels_ small and shaky.

Brandon kisses the tip of his dick and Adam’s whole body lurches from the jolt of arousal.

“Fuck,” he says, and then he says it again when warm, wet pressure closes around the head of his cock.

Adam’s already so turned on that it barely takes anything to get him climbing towards the edge. Brandon swallows him down and then licks a stripe up the underside of his cock, laughing against his hip when Adam whines and jerks against the ropes, desperate just to bury his fingers in Brandon’s hair. His arousal’s building, heat pooling low in his belly, hips arching up into the heat of Brandon’s mouth—

And then just before the pressure’s about to explode, Brandon pulls off his cock with a pop and leaves Adam gasping.

His brain goes haywire for a second, frustration and arousal swirling around like a fog in his head. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t done anything for a full five seconds. He’s pretty sure he isn’t _breathing_.

That’s the first thing Adam does; he heaves in a huge gulp of air and tries to figure out what to do with the arousal coursing through him like adrenaline. It’s starting to simmer now but it’s painfully unsatisfying. All that energy with nowhere to go. He still can’t think straight, either, because his mind can only focus on the weird balance between pleasure and pain that he’s riding right now.

When Brandon drags his open palm up Adam’s inner thigh, Adam almost jumps out of his skin. It’s meant to be a soothing touch but it just makes Adam’s skin buzz.

“Hey,” Brandon says softly, his voice a deep rumble. “You okay?”

It takes Adam a second to find his voice. “What . . . ?” He still, of course, hasn’t really found the functioning part of his brain.

Brandon drags his hands up Adam’s sides. “Was that okay?”

Oh. _Oh_. He’s . . . checking in. Doing the thing. They figured out early on that they both learn better with action, so Brandon tries things out and asks Adam if it’s okay, if he likes it, if he wants to do it again.

And Adam . . . he’s half out of his mind, simultaneously exhausted and screaming with excess energy. His dick _hurts_ , throbbing and twitching up against his abs. He can’t even get a hand on himself to tug himself the rest of the way off, because his hands are bound up above his head. But Brandon got him like this, and Brandon’s kneeling between his spread legs, and Brandon . . . he trusts Brandon. It’s never led him astray before.

“Yes,” he says, surprised by the sureness in his own voice. “Yes, god, fuck—”

He feels the bed shift as Brandon surges up and kisses him soundly. “Trust me, Adam,” Brandon says, mumbling the words against Adam’s mouth, sounding a bit desperate himself, “gonna make it so good. Make you beg for it. I’ll take care of you.”

Yeah, he will. He always does.

Adam loses track of how many times Brandon brings him to the edge just to leave him wet and shaking. He uses his mouth, his hand; a bit later, when Adam’s mostly lost any coherency, he slicks up his fingers and works Adam from the inside, too. And throughout it all he never lets Adam come, murmuring platitudes into Adam’s skin as Adam whines his frustration and jerks at the ropes holding his arms in place.

“ _Please_ ,” he groans, as Brandon’s massaging his prostate and lighting up his entire lower body with electricity. “Please, I can’t—”

Brandon urges him to the precipice again and then slips his fingers free, leaving Adam open and wanting. “What do you want?” His voice is rough, and part of Adam wonders how much longer Brandon’s control will last.

“Fuck me,” Adam whines. A frustrated tear leaks out the corner of his eye and he shakes his head, trying to breathe even though it feels like his chest is in a vice. “Please, just—I want you, please, Brandon—” At this point he’s not even sure if he’s making sense anymore, and he doesn’t know what he’s even _trying_ to say, but. If he says the right combination of _“please”_ and _“want”_ and _“Brandon”_ then surely he’ll say the right thing eventually, because those are the only three things he _knows_ right now.

“Shit,” Brandon says, ragged and low. “Shit, yeah, okay.” He fumbles for something and Adam hears a zipper and the rip of foil and Brandon’s half-hissed curse before there’s suddenly a hand on his hip tugging him further into Brandon’s lap.

Adam almost sobs in relief when he feels the press of Brandon’s dick inside him. Instead he moans his approval, fingers flexing with the desire to wrap his arms around Brandon’s back and hold on tight. He’s rambling as Brandon rolls his hips, working himself inside; nonsense sentences dappled with _“I love you”_ and _“god, please”_.

Brandon bottoms out; Adam forgets how to breathe. It only takes a few more thrusts, deep and dragging, filling him up and stroking against his prostate—and then Adam’s orgasm hits him like a fucking truck, and he’s _gone_.

Literally. As in, everything goes fuzzy and dark and floaty in his head, and when he comes back to what could only generously be termed awareness, Brandon’s rhythm is faltering and he’s groaning out an orgasm.

Huh. So, Adam’s never passed out during sex before.

After a moment—a second, a minute? Adam’s still figuring that out—Brandon pulls out and presumably ties off the condom. He slumps over onto Adam’s chest, head resting on his shoulder, and for a while the two of them just breathe.

“God, Adam,” Brandon rumbles. One of his hands starts rubbing up and down Adam’s ribcage, soothing his desperate breaths. “You’re something else.”

“Hell yeah,” Adam rasps, a little bit delirious as he grins up at the ceiling. “I think you killed me, B.”

Brandon laughs. Carefully, he sits up, and a few seconds later Adam feels hands fiddling with the ropes still tied tight around his wrists. He zones out, focusing on the way every part of him feels sore. Muscles he didn’t even know he _had_ are sore. It’s like a tension headache, but over his entire body, and it’s so fucking good.

When Brandon releases Adam’s arms and slowly brings them back to his sides, he kinda realizes how _those_ hurt too. “I’m sore,” he pouts, knowing Brandon can’t resist that. “You owe me, like, the best massage. Two massages.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Brandon snarks, but he drags himself up to straddle Adam’s stomach and pulls Adam’s right arm into his lap to rub feeling back into it. “You brat.”

Adam smirks up at him. Up at where he imagines Brandon is, anyway, because he’s still wearing the blindfold. “What’s your point?”

“Brat,” Brandon says again, massaging circles into Adam’s rope-raw wrist as he leans down to kiss him sweetly. His nose brushes Adam’s cheek as he pulls back, and there’s a pause in his movements. “Oh, sorry, I forgot about the tie. Lemme just—” His hand moves to the knot at the side of Adam’s head.

“Wait.” Adam blurts it out without meaning to, and if he wasn’t basking in the afterglow he knows he’d be blushing bright red. But, well, it’s Brandon. Brandon’s not gonna judge. Brandon has _no room_ to judge, because Adam has just as much blackmail on him as Brandon’s got for him. So he breathes in deep, and lets all his tension out in a sigh. “Leave it. It’s kinda . . . nice.”

He doesn’t have a concrete, coherent explanation for why it’s nice. Just that Brandon put it there, and Brandon’ll take care of him while he’s wearing it, and he trusts that as fact. It might have something to do with vulnerability, but that’s a little too intimate and complicated with Adam’s brain still fizzled out from his orgasm, so.

Brandon’s quiet, and then he leans down again to kiss Adam a little harder. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you,” Adam says back. He’s never meant it so thoroughly.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://soft-eldritch.tumblr.com/) // [twitter](http://twitter.com/softeldritch)


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